


Dinner's Ready

by somewherealight



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Comfort Food, Cooking, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Kingdom Hearts III Spoilers, Past Character Death, Post-Kingdom Hearts III
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 04:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20669249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somewherealight/pseuds/somewherealight
Summary: KH3 Endgame Spoilers."It was like this now. She’d be fine one moment and then something would happen-- a sound, a smell, the breeze coming in through the window, slices of cucumber in a bowl with salt-- and she was reduced to nothing again, just like she’d been on that first night alone for good. It was like the world hung very delicately around her, a glass charm affixed to a fraying thread. The wind would pass by and maybe it would drift and follow, or maybe it would crash to the ground and shatter into pieces."Sora's mom still makes food for two.





	Dinner's Ready

Maeko used to make six servings every time she prepared dinner. One for herself, one for her husband, one for her son, and three more for them to take for lunch the next day. After the ocean took Rui away, six servings became too much and she found herself throwing leftovers away, so she started to make only four. 

The servings grew bigger as Sora grew older, but she kept making four even after Sora had gone missing. It was a habit, or maybe it was the motherly part of her that came to life when she first held Sora in her arms, moments after he was born. There was no telling when he’d come back, so she always wanted to have something ready for him to eat in case he blew in through the back door like he always did, a gale of sunshine and chaos, with no regard to the numerous patches she fixed where the doorknob hit the wall.

Then he came back, and everything was good, and he ate more than she remembered and she could barely keep enough food in the fridge for him and his friends to snack on whenever they dropped in. And then he was gone again, and now he was _ just gone _, and the refrigerator was full and she couldn’t find it in herself to stop making four servings, so she brought the extra to work and she combed through at the end of the week to throw out the leftovers and she found herself in the kitchen late in the afternoon, making far too much food to ever be able to eat herself.

She placed two cups of rice in the rice cooker now, and flipped the switch on. It clicked softly, the screen moving from READY to COOK, and with that done, she glanced back at the stove to check on the soup. The soup pot’s glass lid was cloudy with steam, but the soup itself was not simmering just yet. She gave it a quick stir, then replaced the lid and returned her attention to the vegetables and fish.

It was simple dinner, maybe-- a quick one. One that she and Sora had eaten dozens of times since he was small, since it was something she cooked often enough that she could probably make it half-asleep. Comfort food.

She sliced the cucumbers quickly, paper-thin and in long, green ribbons and set them in a bowl with a bit of salt, then got to work on the rehydrated seaweed that was already in another bowl. Wringing out the excess water, she chopped them and stirred them into the dressing that was already waiting, letting the briny ocean scent and sour tang of vinegar meet and mellow each other into the familiar aroma of cucumber salad. 

The house was quiet, except for the soft rustle of the breeze blowing through the curtains of the open window and the rice cooker chugging away beside her. Even the shadows were hushed and still, soft at the corners of the furniture and her feet.

She used to treasure little moments of silence, where the house was quiet and she was alone to breathe. Years ago, when Rui brought Sora, Riku, and Kairi to the tiny island just off their shore to play, she would stay home and relish the few moments of peace. It wasn’t until The Year that the quiet started to feel like a gaping hole in her life.

She’d continually found herself glancing out of the kitchen window at the play island that she could see in the distance, longing for something, or maybe waiting for it, but not sure what it was. Her tiny house had felt so huge and so stifling at once, and she’d often found herself standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom, puzzling over why it suddenly looked like the bedroom of a teenage boy. She’d walked in a couple of times intending to clean it out, but ended up touching the sea shells and shiny rocks scattered on the top of the dresser, stepping over the papers and books and toys scattered on the floor, staring at the messy, unmade bed, and finally sinking to the carpet with an armful of rumpled clothes that didn’t belong to her or anyone she knew. In the end, she never cleaned it out, because taking things out of the room felt like cutting out a piece of her heart.

“No one remembers him,” Kairi had said, after she’d turned up at Maeko’s doorstep one day, fidgeting restlessly as she asked Maeko about a boy named Sora. “I couldn’t remember him until yesterday. No one at school knows who he is, and Riku’s parents didn’t remember him at all. Or me, for that matter.” 

Maeko’s heart hurt a little at that, remembering all of the snack times and beach days and playdates she’d hosted for Kairi and Riku (and the faceless third boy, her son, her _ Sora _), how they had their own toys and shoes and spare swimsuits at her house, and their own seats at her table. 

Kairi had curled her fingers into fists in her lap, looking at Maeko with eyes full of fire. “I’m going to find both of them and bring them home.”

And then she’d gone missing, too, and Maeko was left with another part of her heart shattered and no closer to finding her son, or his two best friends that she loved almost as her own children.

Maeko squeezed the extra liquid from the cucumbers and dumped them into the bowl with the seaweed, sprinkling sesame seeds over the top before mixing everything together into the vinegar dressing with a pair of chopsticks. Into the sink the two extra bowls went, yellow and sky blue stacked on top of each other. She set the bowl of cucumber salad aside and unwrapped the fish.

Sora had helped her cook, sometimes. He would throw his bag on the living room floor and stroll into the kitchen after getting back from school or wherever he’d been, snatching pieces of raw vegetable from under her knife and ducking away from her swat with a laugh as he snooped into whatever was cooking on the stove. She’d rope him into stirring something or breading something or chopping something, and he’d never quite get it right but one way or another, everything would end up cooked and they’d set the finished dishes on the table as the sun was sinking close to the horizon, painting the sky orange and purple and pink and blue. They’d settle in to eat at the closest corners of the table, sometimes with the TV playing a movie in the background, sometimes with the only sound being the clacking of their chopsticks and clink of glasses, their voices and laughter escaping in the breeze that blew through the ever open windows.

A sudden weight in Maeko’s chest stilled her hands and she let her chopsticks clatter to the counter as her throat seized in a sob. She raised a sleeve to swipe away the tears that were welling in her eyes and somehow ended up melting to the floor, knees pulled up to her chest and eyes streaming so furiously that she couldn’t see clearly anymore.

It was like this now. She’d be fine one moment and then something would happen-- a sound, a smell, the breeze coming in through the window, slices of cucumber in a bowl with salt-- and she was reduced to nothing again, just like she’d been on that first night alone for good. It was like the world hung very delicately around her, a glass charm affixed to a fraying thread. The wind would pass by and maybe it would drift and follow, or maybe it would crash to the ground and shatter into pieces.

  
  


_ “Mom, are you crying?” Sora edged around the counter, peering at Maeko suspiciously. Maeko kept her eyes trained down, focused on the pineapple she was slicing and not on her son’s face. _

_ “No,” she said. She wasn’t crying, but he didn’t need to know how close she was, and besides, it was already almost too late for dessert so she needed to finish slicing and putting everything together. The fruits were a welcome distraction from those blue eyes, wide and earnest and so much like Rui’s, and she knew that if she made the mistake of looking at him, she wouldn’t be able to turn him away. He didn’t leave and wander back into the living room to watch the rest of the action movie that was still playing on the TV like she hoped, so she continued, “You know I don’t like it when you talk like that.” _

_ She could see the tiny frown, the furrow of his brow as she made another cut with the knife. Instead of being discouraged, he dragged a chair from the table to the counter and plopped down on it, resting his arms on the counter and his chin on his hands. _

_ Even like that, he was tall. When had he gotten that tall? _

_ “Mom.” _

_ She didn’t like that tone. She didn’t like this conversation, or any of the other ones he’d brought up before that were similar to this one. She didn’t like the way her stomach clenched in fear when he was looking at her like this, so much more grown up than he’d ever been before The Year. _

_ Grown up, but still a child. _ Her _ child. _

_ “I might have to. If everyone needs me, I can’t just stay here and not help.” He fingered a blue metal ring that he was always wearing, one that she had never seen before he left. It was loose enough that he could spin it in circles underneath his knuckle. “Right?” _

_ Maeko didn’t answer. She scooped up the wedges of pineapple into a bowl on the counter that was already halfway filled with strawberries, pineapple juice running down her arms and dripping off her elbows and back onto the cutting board in little splashes. _

_ “Never walk past if I can stop and help. If I can make something better, I should try. You told me that.” _

_ There was a sour taste in Maeko’s mouth. Never had she ever thought she’d regret saying those words. Never had she ever imagined they would be so dangerous. “Stop it, Sora.” _

_ “But Mom--” _

_ “It isn’t your responsibility.” _

_ “But it _ is _ my responsibility!” _

_ “It shouldn’t be!” She said those words louder than she intended to and slapped the knife down onto the counter. Sora stopped, startled, and closed his mouth, staring at her. A pang of something stabbed through her as she met his eyes, saw the guarded look there. The determination mixed with caution, like the look he got when carrying something made of glass. _

_ Whatever the pang was, it dissolved into anger. “It’s not your responsibility to go flying off, gods know where, to save the universe from what? Some lunatic? A bunch of monsters? I’m glad that you found people to help you when you were lost, but if they want you to go risking your life in some war we have nothing to do with, then they’re not your friends. They’re the monsters.” _

_ “Mom, that’s--” _

_ “No! You’re fifteen years old. Your responsibilities are your grades. Your summer job. Hanging out with your friends! Not this… thing, whatever this is!” _

_ “It’s—” _

_ She wasn’t done. She felt a fury in her, like fire, mixed with grief. The multiverse had taken her son from her for more than a year, and now it wanted him back? “I don’t want you to go rushing off after Riku either. I know he’s your friend, but you are my son. You’re my responsibility. I don’t want to hear about this again.” _

_ Sora stood up from his chair and she half expected him to turn around and storm off. But he didn’t. He stood there, quietly watching her. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. “I’m just trying to do the right thing,” he said. “Even if it’s hard.” _

_ That pang, whatever it was, returned. Maeko clenched her hands into fists on the counter. “I know you are,” she whispered. _

I don’t want you to_ , she almost said. _I want you to be selfish and shallow and leave all that danger and darkness behind you. I want you to stay here where I know you’re safe and I can watch you finish growing up and try to make up for all the time I lost. 

_ But she didn’t say it. She couldn’t. _

_ “It’s okay to be scared, Mom,” Sora said. “I was scared a lot when I left the islands the first time. Everything was different, and hard, and it felt like nothing was ever going to be okay again. But then I remembered you. I remembered all the things you told me when I was little, and it made me feel stronger. And I wasn’t so scared anymore.” _

_ A tear, unbidden, slipped from Maeko’s eye and joined the puddle of pineapple juice on the counter. Through the blur, she could see Sora rounding the counter, reaching for her, pulling her into a tight hug. “I love you, Mom,” she heard him say. As she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him back, something flooded through her, fierce and glowing and overshadowing the fear and rage. _

_ She stepped back and grabbed his hands and looked him in the eye. “I’m so proud of you, Sora,” she said. “I love you. And I’ll always be here when you get back, no matter what.” _

The smile that had appeared on his face in that moment was like the sun breaking through the clouds. He’d grabbed the ice cream from the freezer, and they’d eaten dessert and finished whatever movie he’d turned on, and then she’d gone to bed. 

The next morning, the house was empty, and there was a note on the table in Sora’s messy handwriting, along with a pile of munny, and a purple hair ribbon she thought she’d lost. He’d sneaked out in the middle of the night. That was the last time she’d ever seen him.

  
  


The golden rays of the late afternoon sun were spilling onto her kitchen floor at an angle that suggested she’d been crying for longer than she’d thought. The rice cooker was burbling cheerfully on the counter above her, and she could hear the stove hissing as droplets of soup bubbled out from underneath the lid and dripped onto the burner. Maeko stood back up and wiped off her face, washing her hands at the sink before returning to the stove to check the pot with too much soup and turn down the burner.

It was late. At this rate, dinner would be ready far too close to the setting sun than she liked. 

_ It doesn’t matter, _a small voice inside her said. It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting for her to finish cooking anyways.

She set the wok on the stove and picked up the bottle of oil she’d set on the counter before, splashing a generous amount into it. It pooled at the bottom and she stood over it, staring at it until it started to glimmer with heat. She shook herself, picked up her chopsticks and dipped them into the wok, watching little bubbles begin to form on the submerged bamboo.

Into the pan went a handful of minced garlic and shredded ginger, a smattering of chopped chili peppers, and the fish, amidst a deafening hiss and sizzle and a spray of tiny oil droplets. She watched the oil dance in the wok for a moment, the garlic and ginger and pepper skittering around the edges of the fish, before setting down her chopsticks and turning to snatch dishes from the cupboard.

She grabbed a soup bowl and a rice bowl for herself, a spoon and napkin and chopsticks, and carried them all out to the living room, where she set them on the coffee table-- she’d been eating on the couch in front of the TV lately. It was easier to eat alone with background noise.

Once she’d plated everything and settled onto the couch, she looked over the spread with the sudden realization that she wasn’t very hungry. Sighing, she set down her chopsticks and glanced out the window, toward the setting sun. She could see the play island from where she was, backlit by the golden rays of the sunset over the glistening water. It was close enough to make out, but far enough that she couldn’t see if anyone was there, on the beach. 

If she closed her eyes and forgot for a second, she could pretend Sora was late, throwing caution to the wind and rowing back as fast as the tide would let him.

A loud rap on her door startled her enough that she jumped. Glancing out through the other window, she saw two shadows hovering by the front door. Voices flitted through the window, and she recognized them instantly. She scrambled to her feet and headed for the door.

“Are you sure she’s here?”

“Where else should she be?”

“I dunno. Work?”

“Just knock again.”

There was another knock and a voice called out. “... hello? Mrs.--”

Maeko pulled open the door, and both Riku and Kairi jumped back in surprise. Riku was carrying a watermelon, and Kairi had a covered plate that looked something like cake in her hands.

Riku cleared his throat. “Um, sorry. We, um--”

Kairi elbowed him, and stepped forward. “We were wondering if you wanted some company for dinner.” She held out the plate. “I brought a cheesecake.”

Maeko’s vision blurred suddenly. Her voice felt froggy as she asked, “Do your parents know you’re here?”

Kairi nodded. “Yeah, we told them we were gonna miss dinner. We just-- we wanted to drop by, cause it’s been awhile since we had dinner out here.”

The weight in Maeko’s chest receded, just a little. She sniffed and blinked, her eyes on the verge of overflowing.

Never mind, there they went.

Riku hesitated. “Is that… is that okay?”

He sounded like he wanted to ask _ “are you okay?” _ but knowing the boy, it’d take three more hours before he was able to blurt out the question. She laughed, a shaky sort of sound, wiping the tears from her cheeks and pushing the door open all the way. “Of course it’s okay. You’ve always got a place here. Don’t you remember? Come in. Here--” 

She snatched the cake from Kairi’s fingers and whisked it into the kitchen, beckoning them after her. “Set that watermelon down under the counter. We’ll get to it after dinner. Kairi--”

“I can get extra bowls and stuff!” Kairi hopped around the counter and opened the cabinet, calling back over her shoulder, “Should I set everything out in the living room?”

Maeko glanced at the coffee table, then at the dining room. “No, Set the table. We’ll eat there.”

Riku helped Maeko bring the dishes over to the table, and Kairi placed the extra bowls and napkins and chopsticks on the seat closest to the counter and the far seat, then added another place setting at Sora’s normal seat. She looked at Maeko before she arranged everything neatly. “If it’s okay?”

Maeko nodded, and something painful but warm swelled in her heart. 

Kairi set the place delicately, carefully arranging everything at perfect angles, then sat down across from Maeko, smiling a little.

Maeko picked up her chopsticks, and smiled back at both of them. “Help yourself,” she said.

“Thank you for the food!” Kairi said. 

“Thank you for the food,” Riku murmured, eyes fixed on Sora’s chair. He looked at Maeko, and for a second, he seemed lost. 

In a single, flickering instant, she wanted to imagine her son was there with them, at his corner of the table, grinning cheekily at them over his bowl of rice. But he wasn’t there, and she knew the place would be empty when she looked. But Riku was there, and Kairi was there, and she could see by the looks in their eyes that that something was gone and everything hurt, and they _ didn’t want to be alone _.

Sora had said something to her once, about hearts being connected. More hearts together being stronger than one.

She scooted her chair back and stood, reaching over to the soup tureen to ladle soup into Riku’s bowl, then Kairi’s bowl, then her own.

“How is school?” she asked, as she sat down.

Kairi rolled her eyes and set down her chopsticks. “Well, apparently learning a whole new form of fighting with a magical weapon doesn’t count towards my PE grade, so there’s that. And then there’s world history… Riku failed his quiz today because apparently one of the questions was factually incorrect.”

Riku groaned. “I thought we weren’t talking about that. I’m gonna read the chapter and retake it with the answers he wants.”

“What question?”

Riku looked at her hesitantly. He’d never been one to speak his mind, like Sora, who wore his heart on his sleeve. But he relaxed, and glanced over at Kairi with a shrug. “Well, it was an ancient history question, asking about the island formation.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

Maeko leaned in and listened as Riku scooped fish into his bowl and described what he knew from his travels and why the answer was wrong and what evidence he gave to support it. 

The sun was sinking close to the horizon, painting the sky orange and purple and pink and blue. The only sound other than Riku’s increasingly passionate voice, her own hums of encouragement, and Kairi’s snickers was the clacking of their chopsticks and clink of glasses, voices and laughter escaping in the breeze that blew through the ever open windows.

  
_ Hearts connecting, _ Maeko thought. One voice was still missing, but when she was quiet, she could hear it in her memories, resonating with the beating of her heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Fried fish, vegetables/salad, soup and rice was definitely one of my comfort foods growing up. My mom grew up by the ocean in Vietnam, so she knows how to cook it in a way that tastes absolutely heavenly.
> 
> ... I played Kingdom Hearts III at the end of January when it released, and I just needed to get this out of my system. Also! Find me on tumblr and twitter @somewherealight ^.^


End file.
